


Reflection

by caras_galadhon (Galadriel)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Brotherhood, Community: contrelamontre, Introspection, Kissing, M/M, New Zealand, Vignette, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 07:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/caras_galadhon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cast gathers for TTT pick-up shots, and David reflects that he's never actually met his brother before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://contrelamontre.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://contrelamontre.livejournal.com/)**contrelamontre** 's First Line Challenge. Write a story that begins with the sentence, "Even watching him felt like being a voyeur." Time limit: 45 minutes.

  
_"It's rather odd, I must say, shooting and knowing that my brother was in the film before me [and] that we never met. When I was over there though, I did have access to Sean's rushes, I could view footage so I could know what my 'brother' was doing, which was a big help."_  
~David Wenhan, in conversation with _Dark Horizons_.

***

_Even watching him felt like being a voyeur._

It was strange, seeing him up close instead of on the flat, two dimensional rushes, moving across his vision like half-remembered memories of a brother lost to time.

He'd watched the rushes months ago, studied how Sean held his mouth, how he used his eyes, how he moved and spoke, and he copied it all, practised the look and speech until he too had the same tightness around his mouth, the same grimness pulling at the corners of his eyes, the same stiffness that came with never letting down your guard. Eventually he modulated his expressions, his movements, made them into Faramir's own, softening the pride of the sons of Denethor, remaking the hardness of guilt in his face into a sharp grief, echoing his older brother, evoking his ghost, perfecting a man forever living in the shadow of the real heir to the Stewardship.

His distance from the other actor helped somewhat, more than he had imagined it would. Boromir became an idea rather than a person, and an idea is always easy to love. He fell in love with his brother, played by an actor half a world away. He devoted himself to the image, worshipped him completely, passionately, and Faramir felt physical pain over his loss.

When he first heard Sean was coming back to New Zealand for pick-ups, David's heart sank a little, worried that the golden image he had built for Faramir would tarnish once the brothers were together. After all, shooting with Viggo had taken some of the shine off of "Mortensen, the Artist," revealing "Vig, Quirky Guy with Camera" underneath. Dave had gone through a similar experience with the rest of the cast; it turned out that John wasn't much of a stern father-figure, but he was a great mate to swap stories with, and Karl, well, Karl was always Karl to Dave, never Éomer, even with the blonde wig and horsey getup. It wasn't much of a jump to assume the same thing would happen once he met Bean.

David saw Sean for the first time in the flesh in full costume, fur trimmed cloak draped over his shoulders, down his back, shield slung in place, sword at his side, gauntlets firmly buckled over his forearms. After a few quick introductions, the scene began and Sean -- no -- _Boromir_ greeted him like they had known each other for years, and David fell easily into his own character, breathed in brotherly adoration, breathed out his concern. He fell in step with Boromir, became instantly comfortable inhabiting Faramir's skin.

That night after filming he'd driven around for hours, wired and unable to sleep. His skin felt electrically charged; the idea had become real, and it held up under scrutiny. When he finally drove back to the hotel he collapsed on the sofa in his suite, coming down from the rush, his head in his hands as he wept away the loss of his only brother. _This is silly,_ Dave told himself, trying to shake off the feeling; he wasn't a method actor, he didn't need to be in character 24/7.

Still, even after a good, stiff drink and a couple hours of mindless late night shows, his breath hitched in his throat when he thought of Faramir and Boromir. Just a little hitch, though; not enough to get in the way, and easily covered with a well-placed cough.

His breath caught again the next day when he saw Sean on set, but not from any misplaced sense of grief. He tried the practised cough on for size, but it did little more than bellow **Awkward, Embarrassing Moment. Ask Me Why.** Good thing no one much was around. Just Miranda, making her leisurely way between the trailers, and Dave himself, loitering near Makeup, watching Sean blink into the sun as he stepped from the shadows of the doorway. This was not Boromir, this was Sean, a soft-spoken, quiet man, happiest when standing just shy of the limelight, comfortable in his craft and his own skin. Stripped of Boromir's accoutrements, decked out in well-worn track pants and a t-shirt, he looked strangely vulnerable. He heard Dave's cough, swivelling his head to the source of the sound, and smiled in recognition. Dave smiled back, watching the way Sean's eyes crinkled around the edges, how the corners and bow of his lips drew upward. Sean slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and thrust one hand into the pocket of his pants, looking down at his shoes as he negotiated the trailer's steps. David could see the muscles sliding underneath the shirt, rolling through the simple movements. Sean stopped, just for a moment, raised his head and grinned awkwardly at Dave. His tongue snaked out, wetting his lips in preparation for speech. "So--"

"Bean!" Viggo appeared from behind the corner of the trailer. Sean immediately turned towards his friend, David temporarily forgotten. "You bastard, you were supposed to be out of makeup forty-five minutes ago." Viggo put a hand on Miranda's shoulder as he passed her, the touch standing in for a proper greeting.

She grinned as she watched him speed up, closing the distance between himself and Sean. For a moment Miranda's gaze met Dave's own, and she threw him a dazzling smile, waved and blew a kiss. Dave laughed and waved before his eyes were drawn back to Sean and Viggo.

The distance finally closed, Viggo opened his arms, winding them around the other man's chest. Sean pulled his hand out of his pocket, curling his now-free arm around Viggo, leaning into the embrace. Viggo pounded Sean on the back, making him cough and flash his teeth in a huge grin.

"Pretty, hmm?" The words were softly spoken, and Dave started to find Miranda standing beside him, purring in his ear.

The duffle bag made a small _thump_ as Sean dropped it to the ground, pulling Viggo closer to him, tilting his head to the side for a kiss. A moment later Sean's mouth was on Viggo's, his lips forming into an "o" as they touched, brushed and pulled away.

Dave shifted, moving his weight from one leg to the other, suddenly aware of a whole set of new and decidedly non-brotherly thoughts running through his head.

"Not sure if 'pretty' is the adjective I'd use, but yeah," he said, just as softly. His mouth tingled, and he let his fingers drift up to his face, let them linger on his own lips as he automatically mimicked the kiss, replayed the scene, and began reforming this first rush in his mind. He wondered, idly, what it would be like to kiss the man he mirrored. An idea, yes, but one made of flesh and perhaps not so far outside David's grasp.


End file.
